


Which Part of Me is Lost?

by peacock_francophile



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Hamilton Angst, Lafayette angst, Laflams, M/M, Multi, Sorry guys, all I write is angst, drunk Lafayette, mentioned PTSD, mentioned anxiety, this was supposed to be fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-09 23:54:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12899583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacock_francophile/pseuds/peacock_francophile
Summary: “Don’t do anything stupid, okay? We’re coming to get you.” And with that, John hangs up.Lafayette wants him to define ‘stupid’.Apparently, stupid is tall, black hair, dark eyes. Apparently, stupid is three ear piercings, wane skin, tight pants. Apparently, stupid is red shirt, long nose, shifty expression. Apparently.





	Which Part of Me is Lost?

**Author's Note:**

> Title from “Note to Self” by From First to Last. Published this on wattpad. I swear it was going to be fluff but everything I touch turns to angst. Sorry. Trigger warnings for alcohol, brief mentions of blood, swearing, sort of panic attack

It had started with the rain. 

The rain had poured down in buckets, drenching the city and leaving the sidewalks in a chilly, wet haze. The moisture had seeped into every crack and crevice, creating filmy puddles on the side of the roads and sidewalks. Cars honked and citizens bickered angrily as the gray morning began, setting the low mood early on. 

It was not a day that had made Lafayette want to walk to work. It was a day that made him want to curl deeper into the bedsheets. It was a day that made him want to cuddle Alex and coddle John, to hold both of them in his arms and love them. 

But it was Friday. A work day. And unfortunately, Lafayette couldn’t call in a sick day just because the weather sucked. So he had pulled on his shoes, wrapped his anorak tight around his torso, and bravely made his way outside, instantly getting hit with a spray of water from a passing car. 

The day didn’t improve as it wore on. His boss snapped at him for being late, his coworkers laughed at him for being drenched, and he received no texts from neither John nor Alex throughout the entire day. 

After running out of pens, nearly stapling his finger, accidentally crashing his computer, and spilling coffee down his shirt, Lafayette just wants to go home. He just wants to watch a corny movie with John and Alex while eating mac and cheese and snuggling his boyfriends under a blanket. 

So why does he find himself stumbling into a bar?

Lafayette immediately orders a beer after collapsing on a bar stool, wearily surveying the scene around him. A punk is sitting in the corner with a woman reclining in his lap, while across the bar a tough-looking man is nearly unconscious. A few lonely souls are drinking away their sorrow, but all of these people pay each other little attention. 

Lafayette downs his first beer and orders another. 

***

The bar becomes much more crowded as the night wears on, filling with people of all different sorts. Lafayette barely notices. He’s not sure how many drinks he’s had. All he knows is that he can barely remember anything that happened today, and tells himself that’s a good thing. 

His phone rings. He peers at it blearily but no matter how hard he narrows his eyes, the text won’t stop blurring, so he shrugs slightly, downs the rest of his drink, and answers while the bartender gets him another. 

“‘Lo?” He grunts. 

“Laf, thank God, we’ve been so worried!” John’s concerned voice blasts from the other end of the phone, making Lafayette wince. “Where are you?”

“Hm.” Lafayette glances around. “Dunno. Bar? Somewhere? Umm… somewhere… with drinks! Lots and lots of drinks!”

He hears an exhausted sigh. “Laf, are you drunk?” That was Alex. 

Lafayette giggles. “Ha, no!” He falls off his barstool. 

“Laf— what—“

“Stupid,” Lafayette slurs. “Stool knocked me over.”

“Laf, please, tell us where you are.”

“Ummm…” the world tilts in front of Lafayette and he blinks hard. “Sign says Dean’s Drinks and…” he peers hard at the last word. “I dunno. Somethin’ English.” He sighs. “English sucks, ya know?”

“Don’t do anything stupid, okay? We’re coming to get you.” And with that, John hangs up. 

Lafayette wants him to define ‘stupid’.

Apparently, stupid is tall, black hair, dark eyes. Apparently, stupid is three ear piercings, wane skin, tight pants. Apparently, stupid is red shirt, long nose, shifty expression. Apparently. 

“What?” the stranger grunts. “Got a problem?”

Lafayette wrinkles his nose and looks away. Keeps his mouth shut. Waits for John and Alex. 

“On the other hand…” the man murmurs, taking another, longer look at the Frenchman. He gets up and stumbles over to Lafayette. Buys him another drink. Leans against the bar. 

“What? Got a problem?” Lafayette mimics the other man, making his voice much higher than need be. He smirks at his joke, but the stranger just smiles and brushes a finger along Lafayette’s cheek. He shivers. Lets his head be turned. Lets their eyes meet. 

“What’s your name, pretty boy?” 

Lafayette’s throat goes dry. He clutches his drink tighter. Doesn’t think about John and Alex. Lets the man settle down on his knee. 

“Hmm?”

“Lafayette,” he whispers. 

“Lafayette,” the man repeats. “What a beautiful name for a beautiful boy.”

Lafayette blushes. He’s drunk. He knows he is. He knows this is the alcohol that’s urging him forward. The man is so close, his breath warming his cheek…

“Fuck you,” Lafayette growls, standing up. The man falls out of his lap ungracefully. 

“Darling,” the man drawls, clambering to his feet, “that is just idea.”

He bends in close, presses their foreheads together. Their lips brush. 

Say no say no say no say no say no to this—

Lafayette’s chin raises. 

Their noses touch. 

Their lips press together. 

Stopstopstopstop they’ll hate you forever and everandeverandever—

And just like that, the touches are too much, the heat too oppressive, the guilt too strong, and Lafayette’s hands jerk upwards and shove the man away roughly. His chest heaves, forcing the want to die down, his breaths coming in ragged bursts. 

“Stay away,” Lafayette gasps. “Stay away. Please.”

“Honey,” the man growls, “this is not how I wanted our night to go.”

“S’not our night,” Lafayette replies coldly. 

“You sure?” The man is giving it one last go. Lafayette snaps. 

His fist flashes out. 

Connects with the man’s face. 

He stumbles back, gasping loudly with pain while Lafayette watches with a new sort of pleasure.

“Okay,” the man mumbles. Turns away. Jerks back and swings a hard punch at Lafayette, catching him in the nose. 

Okay. 

Lafayette hurls himself at the man, this stranger who has only been in his life for a few minutes and yet has earned a lifetime of hatred. Lafayette can barely see, can only feel his fist hitting a face, a stomach, a gut, can only smell the overwhelming scent of alcohol, can only taste the blood dripping into his lips, can only sink into the pain as the man fights back. 

He knocks the man over. Pins him to the ground and goes at it, unstoppable, beating the man to a pulp, terror and anger gripping his heart they’ll hate you they’ll hate you they’ll hate you forever you kissed him you liar you cheater you slut—

“LAF!”

A horrified screech stops Lafayette. The fight drains out of him at the sound of that voice. He lets his fist drop to his side, lets himself be pulled off the body. 

“Oh God, Laf, what did you— is he alive? Alex, check is pulse—“

Tears are running down Lafayette’s face. He can hear the fear and anger and disappointment in John’s voice as he pays for Laf’s drinks, as he mumbles for Alex to call a cab, as he helps Laf to his feet. 

“God Laf, what’s wrong with you?” Alex snaps. Lafayette shrinks back. He’s taller than both his boyfriends, but still cowers at their reactions. 

“Take it easy, Alex,” John sighs wearily as they climb into the cab, but Lafayette thinks he prefers Alex’s anger rather than John’s chilly disappointment. 

“I’m sorry,” Lafayette mumbles. 

“Yeah, well, ‘sorry’ doesn’t pay hospital bills,” Alex growls back. Lafayette flinches and John tells Alex to cut it out. 

After that, the cab ride home is quiet. 

Lafayette doesn’t think he can walk, so he lets himself lean on John and Alex as they make their way into their apartment. 

John helps Lafayette sit down on the bed while Alex gets a washcloth and a glass of water. Lafayette can’t make himself meet John’s eyes, although he can feel John watching him. 

They already hate you and they don’t even know God you’re so weak why did you have to cheat why did you want it why did you hurt him why did you hurt them—

Lafayette lets out a sob and curls in on himself. 

Lafayette never gets like this. He is always the strong one, the optimist, the one who helps his boyfriends recover from their panic attacks, the one who Alex and John can always lean on and know they won’t knock him over. He’s just so… strong. 

And his boyfriends are terrified to see him breaking down. 

“Hey, hey, Laf, look at me, sweetheart, don’t cry…” John murmurs, sitting down beside him. He wraps his arms around his French boyfriend, feeling him shake and shudder. “It’ll be okay. It was just a bar fight.”

Lafayette shakes his head, crying even harder as Alex approaches and sits down on his other side. “Not— it’s not—“

“Laf,” Alex says, looking rather alarmed. “It’ll be alright, really. I’m sorry I snapped.”

“Non, non,” Lafayette replies frantically. “My fault— he was— he wouldn’t stop bothering me—“

“Laf, look at me—“

“I kissed him.”

Silence. Freezing, shocked, silence. 

“He was there and was touching me and he climbed onto me and— and I knew it was wrong, and God, he just wouldn’t stop and I kissed him and I just wanted to stop thinking but then I realized and pushed him away, I swear, I swear we didn’t go any further, I swear it wasn’t for long, I didn’t mean to, please don’t hate me, please, I still love you—“

Usually, Lafayette has more control over his emotions. Usually, Lafayette is an emotional person, but either hides them well or uses them to help his boyfriends when they need him. He doesn’t break down and sob and lose control and panic, dammit. 

In all his time loving and living with Lafayette, Alex has never seen Lafayette have a panic attack. After all, Alex is the one with the destructive hurricane, with the destroyed family. John is the one with the abusive father and dead brother. Lafayette… 

Suddenly, quite suddenly, Alex realizes he knows very little about Lafayette. He knows the little things, of course. His favorite food, favorite color, favorite music, where he works, but he knows little to nothing about Lafayette’s history. 

And it scares him. 

Alex doesn’t know why he’s thinking about this right now. Right now, when Lafayette just admitted he had cheated on them. Right now, when he should feel betrayed and upset. 

But just looking at the beautiful mess called Lafayette in front of him makes his heart melt. 

“Hey,” Alex murmurs. John’s eyes are wide as he watches Lafayette, who is far past hyperventilating, far past panic. It is too much to process that first, Lafayette is breaking down, that second, he had cheated on them, and now Alex is taking on the role of the gentle comforter that usually fell to John or, quite impossibly in this case, Lafayette. 

“I need you to breathe, Laf,” Alex instructs quietly. “Take a deep breath. You’re barely getting any air into your lungs. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Deserve it,” Lafayette mumbles, eyes blank and staring, more unshed tears shimmering in his eyes. “Hurt you. Hurt you both. I should hurt too.”

“Don’t say that,” Alex replies sadly. He wraps his arms tightly around Lafayette. “Honey. Laf, baby, it’s okay. I’m not upset.”

“How?” Lafayette whispers back. 

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Lafayette lets out a snort, jaw clenched as he grins wryly. “Right.”

“You were drunk, Laf,” John says gently. 

“That’s not an excuse!” Lafayette yelps, swinging from sorrow to sarcasm to anger within seconds. “Whose fault is it that I was drunk? Mine, because I was too weak to handle one bad day!”

“Lafayette—“ Alex tries, but Lafayette is standing up, fists clenched. 

“You guys— God, I can’t even imagine what you guys go through. Every. Damn. Day. With— with your anxiety and PTSD and— and everything, and you’re still so strong and—“ Lafayette’s voice breaks. “And I’m not. I have a bad day at work and I instantly turn to the bottle.” An angry laugh bursts from his throat. And then he can’t stop laughing, because it’s so damn funny, downright hilarious how fucking weak he is. John and Alex don’t get like this, do they? Why does he? Why are you so weak so weak so weak SAY NO SAY NO SAY NO YOU DIDN’T SAY NO—

And then arms are being wrapped around him, he’s being pressed to someone’s chest, and he’s sobbing again, he’s crumpling to the ground, not sure why he’s like this or why he was laughing in the first place or why any of this happened in the first place, and he can taste his tears and maybe somebody else’s dripping down his face like rain, and it’s funny because didn’t this all start with rain?

“Never say that,” John is whispering furiously, trying to hide how hard he is crying. “Please, Laf, never say any of that again. You’re so strong, every day you’re so strong, and I admire the hell out of you for that. Maybe you did kiss him, but Lafayette, at least you didn’t try to hide it. You didn’t try to lie about it and cover up your mistake. You did the right thing. We forgive you, baby, and we love you so much. Please Laf, shh, it’ll be okay, I promise…”

They all sit like that for who knows how long, just clutching each other on the floor, holding each other so tight they fear that if they move, one of them might break. Lafayette’s breath is finally calming down, and eventually, his tears and shaking stop as well. 

“M’sorry,” Lafayette mumbles, exhaustion crashing into him like a wrecking ball. 

Alex and John don’t reply. Instead, they gently pick up their boyfriend and strip him of his bloody, sweaty clothes and slip him into their bed, gently washing his cuts and bruises. Lafayette relaxes under their care, guilt still weighing on his chest, but maybe not as heavy anymore. Finally, John and Alex slip into bed and snuggle around him. John rubs his hands down Lafayette’s back while Alex runs his fingers through his curly hair, both whispering how much they love him, and eventually, Lafayette slips off into sleep. 

John and Alex remain like that for some time, gently touching Lafayette and each turning over the events of tonight in their heads. Finally, Alex speaks up. “I think we learned an important lesson today.”

“Oh? And what’s that?”

“Lafayette and alcohol do not mix well.”

**Author's Note:**

> Um. Yeah. Hoped you liked. Please comment or review! the-first-refrain is my tumblr, come check me out.


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